tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36684826024629204502018-03-06T19:42:12.007-05:00the truth about me.one hundred percent honesty. or maybe ninety nine, if you count my anonymity.missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.comBlogger202125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-14977586028287537812017-02-17T23:54:00.000-05:002017-02-17T23:58:49.888-05:00dramatically disingenuous.<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span font-family:="" inherit=""><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">i came home after work this evening, anxious as i had been before i left. i pride myself in very few things, but one of those things is my ability to seem relatively normal (normal relative to myself, which is abnormal, but not&nbsp;<i>too&nbsp;</i>abnormal). today i had been cleaning my room vigorously, after showering and scrubbing myself vigorously, dancing vigorously around and generally trying to force myself into a better mood.&nbsp;</span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span font-family:="" inherit=""><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><br />feeling anxious, are we?</span></i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">&nbsp;my brain had asked me, as i sat on the edge of my bed, chain smoking cigarettes and rereading my many journals.&nbsp;<i>cleaning usually helps, let's try that.</i></span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span font-family:="" inherit=""><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><br /></span></i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">it didn't work. time came to head to work, i chugged 20 oz. of red bull and charged in, wired to the gills and seeming my usual self. giggling, bubbly, full of energy and positive vibes. that's the version of me people know and love. matched a coworker, wit for wit, thrusting and parrying with words like swords. made her laugh. even made some of our patrons smile as i joked with them. left with a grin and a wave, double thumbs up, telling one of my coworkers,&nbsp;<i>see you 'round!</i>&nbsp;then slipping out the door. two jobs, well done, if i do say so myself.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span font-family:="" inherit=""><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><br />smoked another two cigarettes. got on the train and came home. sang&nbsp;<b>morning theft</b>&nbsp;by jeff buckley as i walked home. showered. which is to say, i stood under the water in a dark bathroom, listening to music play on my cellphone and trying to warm myself up from the outside in. came back to my room where i asked my teddy bears, mice, room in entirety,&nbsp;<i>what the hell is wrong with me? what am i feeling?</i>&nbsp;my eyes partially misty, choking back their own tears, swallowing the frozen lump of sadness congealing in my throat.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span font-family:="" inherit=""><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><br />the question was rhetorical; the answer was immediate.&nbsp;<i>dramatically disingenuous.</i></span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span font-family:="" inherit=""><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><br />can't be,&nbsp;</span></i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">i thought.&nbsp;<i>does that mean what i think it does? or is my mind just fucking with me some more?</i></span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span font-family:="" inherit=""><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><br /></span></i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">googled the definition of disingenuous. (i already know dramatic. re: the scenes of my life, a well scripted live divine comedy.) i saw the following.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span font-family:="" inherit=""><b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">dis·in·gen·u·ous</span></span></b><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">adjective</span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: -0.25in;">not candid or sincere, typically by pretending that one knows less about something than one really does.</span></div><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="border-collapse: collapse; mso-yfti-tbllook: 1184;"> <tbody><tr> <td nowrap="" style="padding: 0in 2.25pt 0in 0in;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span font-family:="" inherit=""><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">synonyms:</span></i><i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div></td> <td style="padding: 0in 0in 0in 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span font-family:="" inherit=""><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">insincere,&nbsp;dishonest,&nbsp;untruthful,&nbsp;false,&nbsp;deceitful,&nbsp;duplicitous,&nbsp;lying,&nbsp;</span></span><br /><span font-family:="" inherit=""><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">mendacious;</span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">hypocritical<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: right;"><span font-family:="" inherit=""><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">(then this, the word used in a sentence written&nbsp;almost&nbsp;directly to me)</span></i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"that innocent, teary-eyed look is just part of a disingenuous act"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div></td> </tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span font-family:="" inherit=""><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><br />sarcastically, it was very funny.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span font-family:="" inherit=""><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">sadly, it was painfully accurate.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span font-family:="" inherit=""><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">i know what's bothering me, deep down. i know why i've felt uncomfortable in my skin all day. i know what caused the anxiety, the pacing, the chain smoking and agitated finger tapping. i didn't want to admit it. i don't want to admit it. i don't want to face this problem. i want it to take care of itself. it won't and i have to. i know that and i hate it. so i'm pretending i don't know what's going on, which only serves to make me more irritable and anxious because, well, why not just deal with the damn problem? because i am a coward when it comes to my own emotions. and because i won't face them today, tomorrow, or even sunday at this rate. i'm making myself almost quite literally sick. i ask people vaguely what would make me feel better, as if i didn't know myself. i frown and sigh, head tossed back, exhaling warm, gray clouds into the cold, black air.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span font-family:="" inherit=""><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">the not knowing why i'm upset part? that's false. forget being economical with the truth; this is plain old lying.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span font-family:="" inherit=""><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">i'm just being dramatically disingenuous.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">honestly.</span></span></div>missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-59192425442301331682017-02-10T07:30:00.000-05:002017-02-10T07:30:03.422-05:00long story shortwild.<br /><br />absolutely wild.<br /><br />i'm about to turn twenty-four in eleven days and my twenty-third year has been the single craziest year of my existence. well, every year gets madder, more unpredictable, somewhat worse from an objective viewpoint. sometimes i'm not even sure it's real. i keep expecting i'll wake up one morning and <i>wooooo</i>&nbsp;it'll all be a really bad dream-- like i've had one too many drinks, popped a stray pill, went on a crazy trip, i don't know-- but it isn't. time has proven that. over and over again. it's all been too real. i want to say it's life, but it's not. it's me. i've always been losing it. now it just affects my life in more obvious ways.<br /><br />this is what i've been doing.<br /><br />i go to work in the evenings, some nights. i go to therapy in the mornings, some days. i spend my afternoons reading, journaling, writing music, cuddling with my teddy bears, and recently, watching breaking bad. (i've never seen it before. the violence doesn't do it for me but the philosophical questions it generates excite my brain to no end.) sometimes i stay awake for days, staring out blankly and wondering if i'll ever go through with the suicidal thoughts that flash through my skull. sometimes i sleep all day and can barely get out of bed long enough to brush my teeth. some weeks i eat too much, some weeks i don't eat much at all.<br /><br />every once in a while, i put my phone on airplane mode so i don't have to talk to anyone. i remember wanting people to talk to for a long time but lately, i just want to be left alone. like, who cares? i have a few people i talk to regularly but mostly, i'm past it.<br /><br />i have a new boyfriend (or as he would say,&nbsp;<i>man</i>friend); i call him wolfy because he is. he bites, nibbles, growls. endlessly kinetic and marvelously wise. i don't spend a lot of time with him because he's a busy, busy man, but when i do it's beyond wonderful. more importantly, he's wonderful. he's also 26 years older than me. i wonder how long this will last... hopefully a long time, however foolish that may sound to people. i have a separate boy who's in love with me. (no shortage of those, oddly enough, no matter how hideous i think i am, or how horrible i tell them i am. there's a couple. it's weird.) he's also nice. a cross between a best friend, former lover, and gap filler for the free time in my days. we mostly just get groceries together, play basketball, shoot the shit. there are nights when i miss my wolf and wonder if i should just date this other guy out of convenience (not unlike my first boyfriend). but i wouldn't. it's too easy.<br /><br />sometimes i look at old posts here and i think to myself, <i>oh wow, i should've probably gotten help for x y or z back then, but haha, i didn't and look at how far i've fallen!</i>&nbsp;it's pretty horrendous. i've slowly watched my mental health grow increasingly worse. i've stood at the edge of the abyss and gazed into my own soul. (dramatic, ain't it.) i still read poetry. i fell in love with a musical, <b>notre dame de paris</b>. i broke a few hearts, even while trying to be gentle with them. hey, you know, i became more honest with people because of this blog. i found out being one hundred percent honest doesn't work as well in real life as it does here. a lot of people like being lied to.<br /><br />i'll probably be writing here (sporadically or not) until i'm twentyfive flat. maybe twentyseven. maybe even after that. we'll see.<br /><br />life, hm? the more it seems to change, the more it stays the same. funny. not so funny. has anything really changed here, though? same script, just a different cast.<br /><br />i feel like i've been spinning in circles, doing donuts and leaving skid marks on the asphalt of a parking lot for the past few years. but even if i was doing great, i don't know if i'd feel like i was making progress. i don't know what i want.<br /><br />maybe that's the truest thing i've ever said here.<br /><br />honestly.missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-84014324675757637372016-07-01T07:08:00.002-04:002016-07-01T07:08:15.947-04:00petty.i had a friend call me that the other day. my school presented me with a bouquet of flowers for always singing for them, in spite of my obvious hatred of the place and most of its faculty. i told her when they handed it to me, i frowned in confusion and quickly retreated offstage. part of this was because i don't like attention like that (i never know what to do, obviously) and part of it was because i think almost everything is a trap. well, only when it comes from weird places.<br /><br />someone being nice to me who used to laugh at me for being short in elementary school? <i>it's a trap.</i><br /><i><br /></i>someone asking me if i'd like to hang out, even though we both know he/she can't stand me? <i>it's a trap.</i><br /><i><br /></i>my mother talking to me in a civil tone? <i>it's a trap.</i><br /><i><br /></i>maybe i shouldn't have read the iliad as a child. this trojan horse mindset isn't helping me relax.<br /><br />the only reason i'm thinking about this now is because i was watching some old intervention episodes. one of the girls was talking about her relationship with her parents and at one point, she glanced off to the side and whispered, <i>i just want them to love me.</i>&nbsp;it was really heartbreaking. but then i started thinking, do i want my mother to love me? i don't think i care anymore. i definitely want her to stop wearing down at my self-esteem and happiness. (years and years of this kind of treatment, not going to end well.)<br /><br />maybe it's petty but after a lifetime of all the things she's done and said, if she were to suddenly turn to me and apologize, i'd probably frown and walk away. i'm not saying that's the right thing to do (hypothetically, if there <i>is </i>a right thing to do), but i think i'm starting to realize i'm handling this a lot better than my sister might be. i mean, sure, i basically abuse my body and treat myself like crap ninety percent of the time, but as much as i hate the woman, at least i just avoid her. my sister, on the other hand, still makes these halfhearted attempts to be a good daughter. (they have a better relationship on the surface than me and the ol' egg donor. she buys them tickets to go places.) but they argue a whole lot more. i was talking to my sister on tuesday and she basically looked me in the eyes and said, <i>i'm going to treat her kindly because i don't want to end up like her</i>-- a sentiment i understand all too well-- <i>but i'm on the edge of just beating the shit out of her and calling it a day. i'm tired of all of this.</i>&nbsp;i didn't say anything to the last part because it seemed a <i>little</i>&nbsp;extreme to me, but hey, i've been there before. i can't judge her.<br /><br />either way, i think i realized today that my mother has done so much damage to our relationship that even if she tried to fix it now, she would have to be on her best behavior for the rest of her life for me to attend her funeral for any reason besides making sure she's dead. no matter what she does, or how many times she pretends to be a good mother, i just don't think i care about having a biological mother anymore. i collect older women/mother figures like otakus collect figurines.<br /><br />am i petty? maybe. but like my sister emphatically told me, it was a learned thing. we weren't always like this.<br /><br />we used to be more forgiving.<br /><br />honestly.missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-17604394923030493832016-06-29T22:13:00.000-04:002016-06-29T22:13:50.634-04:00here come the blues.if i had to describe where i am in the year, i'd put it this way.<br /><br />the period of time between april thirteenth and june fourth was akin to the top of a hill. my life (heavy and hard) is a boulder, and i suppose that makes me sisyphus. of course, just as i had started to foolishly believe that maybe, <i>just maybe</i>, this time i would make it to the top of the hill, that boulder just started to roll back down.<br /><br />and here we are, with me sitting atop this boulder, head in my hands, sighing deeply. deplorable wretch that i am.<br /><br />perhaps the only person in the world whose low opinion of me rivals my own low opinion of myself is my egg donor. lately, it seems that with everything going on in my life, her opinion of me gets worse and worse. the worse it gets, the more verbally and emotionally abusive she becomes. and the more that happens, the more i hate myself.<br /><br />someone said <i>you've made it through every bad day you've ever had-- 100% success rate!</i><br /><i><br /></i>nick drake knows though. it's not so simple as that.<br /><br />here comes the long, lonely...<br /><br />here come the blues.<br /><br />honestly.missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-3283074838844900672016-06-19T01:46:00.000-04:002016-06-19T01:48:37.523-04:00nature boy.foolish, foolish, foolish girl that i am. despite all my best efforts, my emotions always get the better of me. i've tried, tried, and tried some more. done everything i possibly could, yet this boy worms his way into my heart. carelessly. innocently. and so naturally, as if there were no other option for the two of us but to like each other. he doesn't make me feel out of control, like some others did, or freeze when i'm talking to him unexpectedly. from the first day, we were comfortable with each other.<br /><br />maybe <i>too </i>comfortable. (who's to say for sure?)<br /><br />at first, we were just getting to know each other better. then all of a sudden, it was him, meeting my friends and immediately impressing them with his charm. it was me, meeting his mother quite by accident and somehow impressing her with my friendliness. it was the two of us, spending time together. usually, as a result of him. (wanting to watch a movie. play uno. go to an open mic together.) occasionally, as an odd favor to me. (borrowed a guitar capo. needed a bike pump, tonight. once, just for a bear hug and an iced coffee.) sometimes just as a result of us wanting to see each other. (him: reading a scary story, playing a song on the guitar, telling me about his family. me: explaining how i feel music, reverently whispering about jeff buckley, delicately running my fingers through his hair and beard.) he offers to do things for me. drive me places, pick things up, drop things off. and me? i'm not even trying. i'm not even sure what i'm doing around him most of the time. i don't think i've done anything for him. he says my presence is more than enough. (who could believe such a thing?)<br /><br />i remember the way he looked at me steadily, seriously, confidently as he said,<b><span style="color: #3d85c6;"> </span></b><i><b><span style="color: #3d85c6;">i totally like you</span></b>, </i>just a week into our friendship. the way i nervously, hesitantly, bashfully mumbled back that i liked him too. we marveled over how open we felt with each other, how genuine, how relaxed. we've seen each other every week since we met. we've spoken almost every day since then. we talk about real things. we agree on important things. we share an odd, off kilter sense of humor. we treat each other with respect.<br /><br />paradox that i am, i'm both enamored and terrified. his girlfriend broke up with him the day we met. (maybe these details are too detailed... oh well.) at first, as i voiced my apprehensions, he'd tell me,&nbsp;<b><i style="color: #3d85c6;">the universe is always at work</i>.</b>&nbsp;then over time, as reality sunk in (reality being that he was very recently single), he began to take time to puzzle things through and really get in touch with his feelings. and me? i took the part of myself that was getting lost in the moment and locked her away. or at least i thought i did.<br /><br />perhaps the worst part of this is that no matter how hard we both try to keep this <i>friendship </i>casual (and, as per his tortured request, rated PG), there's something there. i don't remember this happening before. clicking with someone, agreeing with someone, feeling so comfortable with someone so quickly. let me clarify--&nbsp;<i>without alcohol.&nbsp;</i>i've become a creature haunted by fears. a fear of not getting a job soon enough. a fear of the outcome of my court date in a month or so. a fear that his mother will invite me to their fourth of july barbecue. a fear that i'll live in this house longer than my mind can handle. a fear that i'll hurt or be hurt by this strange, strange boy.<br /><br />he might be the only person in existence who's able to ask me to do things i'd normally not be comfortable with and have me say yes, albeit reluctantly. out at a diner once, before watching a movie together, he invited me to try an appetizer. i did. (i don't remember the last time i tried a new dish before that.) the other night, showing me a fishing rod he had bought, he asked me if i'd like to go fishing with him sometime. i said yes. i have absolutely no interest in fishing. or i suppose, i didn't before this. to his credit, he seems to be sincerely pleased with me, though i can't begin to understand why. and me?<br /><br />i just hope my mind figures this out before my heart gets any more tangled up in blue.<br /><br />honestly.missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-1796065375047765332016-06-17T23:41:00.001-04:002016-06-17T23:41:33.206-04:0050/50i don't know where to begin.<br /><br />i started performing, carrying my guitar around on my back and flirting with anyone who liked my music. drank less. drank more. stopped drinking. started again. got arrested, stopped drinking again. broke up with the boy for being dishonest. (i value honesty, you know that.) blew through lives like a whirlwind, carelessly batting my eyelashes and giggling as boys fell for me. then slipped into the night and vanished. eventually, empty handed, i realized i had spent too many nights. emotionally bankrupt, i just focused on school for a few weeks. i graduated, finally. angrily. bitterly. cursing myself, as perfectionists do, regardless of their achievements.<br /><br />this seems so negative when i write it like that.<br /><br />let's start again.<br /><br />i started performing, carrying my guitar around on my back and collecting fans like spare change. became a connoisseur of bloody mary's. realized i wasn't cut out for that job and took a break. in a moment of clarity, valued myself enough to return to being single. spent time with different people, got to know them on a deep level. (i don't know how many people inquire about childhoods and personal details with their one nighters, but i do.) realized i wasn't cut out for all of that socializing and took a break. although i did meet one boy who (his words) clicked with me immediately, decided to invest my energy in the last month of college. graduated, finally.<br /><br />feels like there are holes in it when i try to paint it as a happy few months.<br /><br />halfway through the year. it hasn't been terrible. in fact, it's been pretty great. (aside from the arrest.)<br /><br />well, you know how it is, here's hoping things get better.<br /><br />never a dull moment in this life, i'm afraid. at least lately i've been taking it easy. introspecting. and getting ready to start therapy. (keyword: start. will i finish? who knows?)<br /><br />it's funny how you can say something and yet really not say much at all, isn't it?<br /><br />i think it is.<br /><br />honestly.missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-86875948162889361152015-12-06T23:03:00.001-05:002015-12-06T23:03:32.716-05:00organized / chaosi have to be really organized at times like this, when i'm super distract-able and find it hard to focus on one thing for two long. i tried typing five posts over the past few weeks, and none of them were ever finished. just drafts. if i finish this one, <i>thank fuck</i>&nbsp;because i won't ever really be sure how i did it.<br /><br />the more chaotic my mind becomes, the easier it is to seem like i'm holding everything together, it seems. as long as i stay organized.<br /><br />so i really can't understand why i decided to clean my room. and i don't mean shiatsu massage styled cleaning which is nice but isn't anything too intense, i mean a deep tissue massage kind of cleaning that gets into cracks and crevices i long forgot existed. i put my books back on the shelf; they were on the floor by my bed before, within reach. when i had time to read, this was perfect but now that i stumble into my house half asleep, tripping over my old friends feels more sacrilegious than anything else. &nbsp;now they sit across from my bed, spines facing me. they're very lovely, all lined up like this. sadly, i barely put twenty percent of the books on my floor on the shelf. the rest are still on the floor.<br /><br />then there's the books i decided to put in my closet. books i don't and probably won't read. books that if i <i>really </i>needed to read, i'd go get them. books that are taking up more space than i have. they're stacked up neatly though, alongside the boxes piled high full of my clothes. one box has clean shirts under sweaters under pants under wear-- under underwear, that is-- under a pillow that i switched with another pillow because it wasn't fluffy enough and turned my cloud nine dream-lands into dusty martian landscapes. (not that anything's wrong with mars, but i'm more in need of a few unicorns, fairies, and elves at the moment.) my guitar is leaning nearby, on the chair covered in papers that have no place in this room. and that's only a small portion of my floor.<br /><br />my bed is clean, at least. warm, fuzzy, and cozy. just the way i like it. i know i have to clean before tuesday, because that's when i kidnap my boyfriend. tuesday or thursday mornings. then i bring him over and we sleep beside each other, wake up reasonably &nbsp;happy in comparison to mondays, and then play video games until he has to go to work. but i can't have him coming over with my room like this. so... oh well. he'll live.<br /><br />it's funny, to him. really. he finds my need for organization amusing. <i>baby, no offense, &nbsp;but i don't get people like you. i just stay relaxed. if i have to do something, i'll remember, and if i don't-- oh well.</i>&nbsp;i'm not sure if he's just overly complacent, though. his memory is so bad that he really should be more organized. but that doesn't matter.<br /><br />i think i'm really good at holding things together outside of my room but on the inside, it's all whirlygigs, whizzpoppers, bells and whistles. i'm not worried that anyone will figure that out, though, or see what's really going on.<br /><br />i always keep my door locked.<br /><br />honestly.missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-61169833937234901132015-11-18T23:02:00.000-05:002015-11-18T23:02:42.383-05:00silly me, for being honest.i think maybe it's time i started telling a few lies.<br /><br />my boyfriend is very considerate so far and since he knows about a few things that trigger me, he's extra careful about what he says or brings up. he puts in as much work into our relationship as i do, if not slightly more. i always feel like i can tell him anything because i know he'll listen to what i have to say without making me feel bad for being honest. his friends are really lovely people all the time and they're very considerate about the things they say. we all get along like a big house on fire. they think i love them all dearly. i do.<br /><br />he pays attention to me when we're together. when we go on dates, he isn't preoccupied with his phone or anything. he barely even looks at it. speaking of dates, i don't plan all of them. in fact, i don't even have to suggest when we go on them. not ever. when he isn't working, he always makes sure that we get to do something together. something that isn't just us hanging out at his house. if we go to the movies, he lets me pick the movie without complaint every other date. even if we only watch movies at his house or mine, we trade, so he isn't the one choosing what we watch all time. and he doesn't complain about the movies i pick, he watches them and critiques after they're done. never during. never that.<br /><br />all in all, i'm pretty sure i'm one hundred percent happy with this. i'm really glad i gave up polyamory for a monogamous relationship. right now, i can say with full confidence that it was worth it.<br /><br />i'm so glad i found this.<br /><br />i'm so glad i did.<br /><br />dishonestly.missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-8342813586442742682015-09-04T23:42:00.000-04:002015-09-04T23:42:00.027-04:00let's pretend we're bunny rabbits.we were in a trial relationship; it started last week. it was my idea. he wanted a relationship. i had never done that. i didn't want to just acquiesce like that. so i figured i'd be okay with giving up my freedom for a week. after all, we spent almost every day together and talked all the time when we weren't hanging out together. plus he assured me that nothing would really change. we'd be doing the same things we were already doing. <i>alright</i>, i thought. <i>i can do this</i>.<br /><br />about two days in, i started freaking out. monogamy wasn't a village i was familiar with. i was more acquainted with the bustling metropolis of polyamory. actually, i was part of the free love suburb just a few miles from the city's center, but it was close enough. so the first few days, i had to actively remind myself that i couldn't go chasing squirrels. i even called <b style="color: #38761d;">esmeralda </b>to ask her about monogamy. <i style="color: #6aa84f;">you're used to cliffs and mountainsides. now you're in a field of flowers. it's not bad, it's just different. try to enjoy it. </i>that made as much sense as anything else did, so i kept that in mind. days passed. i messed up once or twice-- at one point, i found myself making out with his older brother in their basement while he was upstairs--but i realized those things hurt him. and for some weird reason, i actually cared. so i didn't make those mistakes again. it was working out. then i realized that days had passed and the trial week only had one day left.<br /><br />the last day, i called him, early in the morning. i didn't want my decision to be influenced by-- well, for lack of a better way to put it-- him. i beat around the bush for a little over an hour. patient as ever, he listened and even tried to help me make up my mind. <i><span style="color: #e06666;">list the pros and cons of yes and no</span>,</i>&nbsp;he said. <i><span style="color: #e06666;">take your time</span></i>. i did just that. <i><span style="color: #e06666;">it sounds like you're really leaning toward no</span>,</i>&nbsp;he finally said. <i>i just don't want to burden you with me, you know? i don't want you to have to deal with me. so i guess i'll have to say no. </i><span style="color: #e06666; font-style: italic;">fine. that's fine</span>, he said. and then we hung up.<br /><br />less than ten minutes later, i called back, anxiety tensing my muscles. <i>umm,&nbsp;is it too late to change my answer? </i>he laughed. he knew i'd call back.<br /><i><br /></i>love is very selfish sort of thing, if it's coming from me. i like being the person he shares secrets with. i like having him rest his head on my lap. i like the way he slips up behind me and gives me hugs when i'm not paying attention. i like that we can seamlessly switch from playing mortal kombat to discussing the bones in the body. i like cradling his head in my arms when he needs a moment.<br /><br />i don't want anyone else to have him. even if that means i can't have anyone else. (look at me, trying to be nonchalant about this.)<br /><br />i love this guy, though. i really do.<br /><br />honestly.missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-45962363247799833552015-08-31T09:01:00.000-04:002015-08-31T09:01:19.329-04:00not today, satan. not today.i've been spending a lot of time with my friend lately. we have a weird relationship. we're best friends, we sleep &nbsp;together, we sleep with each other-- you'll have to decide which of those is the innocent one for yourself-- but we're not a <i>thing</i>. still, regardless of the nature of our friendship, it's a pretty solid one. i appreciate it for the same reasons i appreciate my friendship with&nbsp;<span style="color: orange;"><b>waterbear</b></span>. it's not just that there's a genuine level of respect but it's also that there's actual concern for the other person. that's what real friendships are, i'd like to think. relationships with other people that make you feel okay being yourself (as much as you ever could) around them because you know you don't have to be someone else for them to care about you. you know? but i digress.<br /><br />we went to six flags yesterday, with his friends. i can't stress this enough. they're definitely his friends. i don't know these people. the groupings were essentially like this: me and him, a couple engaged to be married (they met on tinder a few months ago and decided to tie the knot, but who am i to explicitly judge?), a couple that should be engaged to be married (since they were probably the only pair i had no quarrel with), and a trio that was basically a douchecanoe and his two girlfriends (or as i referred to them yesterday, ketchup and mustard). six flags is fun, i'm sure, as long as you don't have problems being around large groups of people for extended periods of time like i do. my defenses were pretty high from that alone. add on the fact that the only person i really knew was my friend, so i did feel a little left out. (what can i say? i'm a simple kid.) but then take all of that and boil it in a vat of crap called <i>them</i>. whoever said hell is other people was right.<br /><br />i have pretty low self-esteem. i can say low now because i finally have some. (about time.) i constantly take comfort in the fact that no one will ever hate me as much as i hate myself. being mean to yourself makes being nice to other people easy. being mean to yourself makes it amusing when other people try to be mean to you. but as with almost everything, there's a point where it's just not okay. if i heard voices outside of my head that sounded like the voices inside of my head, it wouldn't end well. let's just say that.<br /><br />this group of friends, minus two people i had no problems with, were like a pack of hyenas. being around them all day and watching them basically mock my friend for hours put my defenses at an all time high (for a group outing). at one point, his glasses flew off when he was on a roller coaster. <b>kingda ka</b>, to be exact. named after a tiger and equally fear inducing. he was naturally upset. you would think they would have the decency to lay off him for a few moments but, as they were primitive creatures, they tore into him with even more enthusiasm than before. the whole time i just thought to myself, <i>i am really glad i'm a neutral party here. normally, i prefer if people don't ignore me but i really just hope they forget i exist. if this is the way they treat someone who's been friends with them for years, not only do i not want to be a part of this, but i also really don't even want them to dislike me. </i>it was disgusting.<br /><br />loyalty beat discomfort, though. i had to defend my pal. even though they didn't stop treating him like shit until essentially twenty minutes before we left, i'm pretty sure they'll think twice about doing it in front of me again. everyone who offended him got a low blow from me in return. (i felt like scrappy doo at one point. or a shadowboxer.) it's not that they spent every minute of the day being crude but that he was basically the scapegoat of the crew. not cool. not cool. i don't think it's healthy for him to be friends with them but according to him, they have history. i wanted to say, <i>so do my mother and i, but you don't see me trying to keep her around for&nbsp;that reason. </i>but you know what they say. keep your friends close and possible genetic clones of hitler closer.<br /><i><br /></i>i have a little more respect for myself thanks to this ordeal. while i may not be the greatest person on earth, at least i treat people with some kind of decency. also, i didn't back down. i walked into the middle of a pack of hyenas and stood my ground. i'm a certified bad ass.<br /><br />time to update my resume.<br /><br />honestly.missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-45409427966318460982015-05-23T16:34:00.001-04:002015-05-23T16:34:47.529-04:00one morning you awoke<div style="text-align: center;">&amp; the strange sun</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">&amp; opening your door</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">this is the present.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">that tuesday is the past. my mood plummeted two days later. it was the untimely not-quite rejection, it was my voice and i had a solo to sing, it was my voice and i couldn't reach the notes like i usually did, it was me and my brain, it was me and my existence, it was everything, and it was nothing at all. cue existential crisis that triggers tears. real ones, i think, unsure of why they were falling. one minute i was sneezing by the paper towel dispenser in the bathroom. the next i was sobbing, crouched on the floor of a stall, listening to rihanna repeat over and over, <i>we're beautiful, like diamonds in the sky</i>, not knowing why i suddenly liked the song or why it meant something, just knowing that it did mean something.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">the days went by in a strange haze of confusion. time seemed off, somehow. what was time? the seconds weren't moving properly, so the minutes dragged their feet through the muddy hours. talking to people, i would be aware of what day it was, then suddenly unaware. i felt half asleep. sometimes i had no energy, although my brain was still moving full speed ahead. then sometimes i had more energy than i could deal with. somehow, unfortunately, still high-functioning enough to be self-aware. listening to myself scream at people i knew, listening to myself ramble about things that made little sense and were only connected by the fact that all the sentences were in english, watching myself throw darts at a board while really aiming for the window to see if it would break that easily... yet unable to stop myself or even slow down a little. started understanding people less. and conversations. i couldn't stay on the same topic as someone i was talking to because i was afraid of saying something inappropriate. but maybe, was that inappropriate? so i kept making plans to hang out with people because maybe some combination of people + me + right situation would equal relative sanity.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">and then yesterday morning i awoke and the strange sun and opening my door and cleaning and dancing around my room to the backstreet boys and aaron carter and getting dressed and the day is passing at the best speed and i'm leaving the house and going to my friend's house. he's saying words in sentences and because i can finally understand, the only way to respond is in perfectly detailed paragraphs so he can understand that i understand. then he's asking me if i want to drink before we go to the club and i stop.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i tell him i don't know. that might not be a good idea, my brain is finally working somewhat, my brain can go a couple of ways right now, it could end badly, if i start drinking i don't think i'll stop, i probably won't stop, i love what alcohol does to my brain. all of my reasons for not drinking are reasons to drink, i conclude. he's talking about something different now because i've been thinking in my head and not out loud for once, so he doesn't know what i was thinking about or that i've arrived at my destination, the grand central station where all of my trains of thought end up. <i>yes</i>, i say loudly after he finishes a sentence. he thinks i'm agreeing, so i have to repeat <i>yes</i>, several times because i can't say the rest of it out loud, which is <i>i'll have a drink, please and thank you</i>. and then he catches on, because my eyetooth is snagged on his bottle of vodka. <i>that's mine, </i>he states simply. <i>but i'll get you something</i>. something turns out to be quite a bit left in the bottom of a bottle of rum. we toast to school being out for the summer. we toast to charlie from <i>it's always sunny</i>&nbsp;because he calls me charlie and the dayman has defeated the nightman and i'm amused.<br /><br />and <i>why didn't i want to drink earlier </i>is the track on repeat now, rihanna and her diamonds are long forgotten, the next hit single is <i>alcohol is great! candy is dandy but liquor is quicker!</i>&nbsp;and i'm smiling and my head feels like a solid thing again, but like its supposed to feel, like a head on my shoulders. and we're at the club and i'm being a little obnoxious as i make fun of the people who can't dance, then i dance and dance with a girl and then two girls and then the first girl and then she introduces me to her girlfriend and i'm sandwiched between them and we're dancing and they go off to get more drinks and my friend walks over and says <i>that was hot!</i>&nbsp;which reminds me that he's there and then they're back and we're dancing, the girl and i, and we almost kiss but she has a girlfriend so we can't and i need a drink and then there's a boy and we're dancing and then we're smoking and i'm laughing because he has such an innocent smile but i know he isn't and he asks for my number and then my friend is leaving and so of course i'm leaving and he's walking us out and the alcohol has worn off from my body it seems but my brain is still buzzing like a bee<br /><br />and we're running across the streets against green lights and i'm almost getting hit by a van but not getting hit, which just goes to show that i'm really lucky and i'm taking it for granted, and my friend isn't sure where we are so i'm talking to strangers and flirting with strangers and-- petting a dog?-- and we're on the train and i'm telling a man on the street that clowns have hepatitis and then my friend says i attract strangers like nobody's business and he's telling me to be quiet because we're at his house and his parents are asleep and so i leave<br /><br />and i'm thinking and i'm reading a book and the sky is lighter which must mean it's morning and i'm&nbsp;watching the sun rise, the day break<br /><br />and i'm so wide awake and i have a hundred movies in mind that i need to watch and a hundred things i need to do and the perfect recipe for coffee comes to me in a flash of enlightenment and i'm talking to old women at the bus stop and i'm on the bus<br /><br />and i'm calling everyone because i have the perfect advice for them, disguised as ice cream cones and sprinkled with words of wisdom but no one's answering because it's seven, no it's six ante meridian and they sleep because they're fools and i can't give them my advice over the phone, i have to tell them in person and then one person answers and she's sleepy so i let her go back and then another answers and he's sleepy so i let him go back to sleep and then another answers and she's sleepy but i tell her fuck sleep, get up and i talk her ear off for ninety minutes straight and i'm considering breaking into my own house for a change of pace and i have the window open and i can get inside but i shouldn't and i go through the front door like humans do<br /><br />and then i'm in my room dancing and i'm brushing my teeth and i'm taking a nap and three hours later i'm awake again<br /><br />and i drink the coffee i thought up earlier and my life is finally here and now, one long run-on sentence after another and it feels pretty awesome, to be perfectly honest. and i haven't felt this happy since i don't know when and i'm getting things done so i'm doing well. i must be, if i'm doing what i should be doing.<br /><br />and i think i'm doing what i should be doing.<br /><br />honestly.</div>missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-59813367757075289602015-05-06T14:43:00.002-04:002015-05-06T14:43:30.644-04:00he who hesitates is lost. (or, she who hesitates, masturbates.)<a href="http://onehundredpercenthonest.blogspot.com/2013/12/you-ever-feel-like-goldilocks.html">crush # 4.</a><br /><br />also known as <b>lurch</b>. he's awesome. (i figured it out; he's 26~27.) i don't want to repeat the entirety of this story, as i've told a bunch of strangers and a few of my friends about it already, but basically my friend asked him for his number (for me, because in true <i>missinsanity </i>fashion, i ran away from him), and he did this. in her words.<br /><br /><i>he looked really bummed and then he was like, what really? ugh this sucks, because if she had told me a year ago, i would've been all over her, but i have a girlfriend now. so yeah.</i><br /><i><br /></i>my instant reaction was yelling "SON OF A BITCH" at the top of my lungs. i'm sure he heard it, as he headed home on the highway. and i'm sure he knew it was me. (maybe not, actually.) and i hid under a table because that's just what i do when i don't want people to see my face. but yeah. i wish he had just said no and not added the whole, <i>i would if not for my girlfriend</i>&nbsp;line. because now i'll be torn between wishing she was dead and feeling bad about wishing she was dead. (interestingly enough, i'm not torn at all about liking him. he's deliciously <strike>lickable</strike> likable.) i used the word plethora before that had happened and his eyes lit up. he understood my bad jokes about chemistry and the brain. we both wear glasses. (this is starting to feel like that episode of <i>how i met your mother</i>&nbsp;with the matchmaking service. but it won't end like that. he's not marrying this ho. no offense to her.)<br /><br />whatever.<br /><br />whoever this bitch is, she'd better be fucking awesome because, to quote the great <b>watts </b>&nbsp;from some kind of wonderful, if she breaks his heart, i'll break her face. seriously. i've got 20 ounces of pure caffeine running through my veins, not to mention my brain is on the upswing. so my self-esteem is through the roof and i'm not accepting anything less than perfection for this guy. (which, you know, i'm not. but hell, i'm probably miles closer than her.) comparing myself to a possibly non-existent version of a girl i don't know and have only heard about. way to go, kid.<br /><br />anyway, i don't have his number, because like i said, he said <i>no</i> because he <i>has a girlfriend</i>. which i respect. what i don't respect is that i have to sit here thinking about this while i try to write a literature review. thanks for fucking my head up.<br /><br />if i see him today, i swear, i will...<br /><br />not do anything.<br /><br />duh. let's be real. it's me we're talking about.<br /><br />but i do hope i see him again, so i can say goodbye in a better way than i did yesterday.<br /><br />honestly.missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-38188299665299756422015-04-13T09:54:00.000-04:002015-04-13T09:54:00.394-04:00oscillate wildly. (or, how to stay in bed.)i understand orbit. the way it always looks like something is going away but then it returns. that's me and my bed. i kid you not. i woke up (after my typical four hours of sleep) with the morning's sunshine in my face. something about the brightness didn't seem right to me, though. so i pulled my blanket over my head. i talked to myself about going to school. thirty minutes later, i rolled over, moved the blanket from over my head.<br /><br /><i>yes!</i>&nbsp;i thought. <i>i can do this!</i><br /><br />i reached off of the bed, grabbed my sister's laptop and pulled it under the blanket. watched a really old series called <b>the quest</b>&nbsp;about a man trying to get himself some raisins. he starts off in his bed too but by the end he's on the roof. when it finally ended, i rolled over, moved the blanket from over my head. told myself i had things to do.<br /><br /><i>no time to play around, kiddo.</i>&nbsp;<i>at least take a shower.</i><br /><i><br /></i>i can do that, i acquiesced. my brain wants me to shower? i can shower. in the shower, it felt like every weight in the world was on my shoulders. bad posture is especially noticeable when you're bathing. i caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. winked and smiled. <i>here we go!&nbsp;</i><br /><i><br /></i>back to bed. under the blanket. sent a few miscellaneous messages to people. threw up in my mouth a little when i thought about going to school. (no really, i did.) read part of a book. i've been awake for all of three hours and fifty-five minutes, and i can't leave my bed for more than thirty minutes at a time. obviously, school is not an option today. is it the sunlight? maybe. is it the cat glaring at me? i don't know. is it an existential crisis? hopefully not. it's probably all the thinking i'm doing. i over-think everything. also, i hate my school and the people there and most of my life in general. that's probably why i can't get out of bed.<br /><br />so now it's more like my brain is saying, <i>alright, fuck it.&nbsp;</i><br /><i><br /></i>what's wrong with me?<br /><br />from here on out, it's just me, my books, and my rubik's cube. this is my plan for the day. to fail at productivity.<br /><br />honestly.missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-90303323374886113082015-04-03T10:04:00.001-04:002015-04-03T10:04:30.249-04:00phish and chips.in a rare moment of risky honesty, i told a professor (that i share the same birthday with) about how i really suck at feeling things. i didn't say emotionally retarded&nbsp;because, you know, she wouldn't have taken kindly to that term. or maybe she would. i don't know. <i>get therapy, girl. get on that. you could be amazing.</i>&nbsp;that was her response. yes, yes, yes. this is what people say. i think i only told her because she told me about her OCD. i felt like she had given me too much information at that moment, so i needed to tell her something and restore the balance.<br /><br />i realized later on what i should have done last semester. like everyone else does during internship, i should have just lied about my feelings and pretended to care about things. this is what i get for being honest. <b>billy joel </b>would be super disappointed in me i if i was dishonest, though. damn. (all he asks for is honesty.)<br /><br />i think all the drama and collective insanity surrounding the <b style="color: #b45f06;">arizona</b>&nbsp;situation has me disinterested. i probably told too many people, heard too many opinions, and got a pinch too disgusted with emotions. also, you know, the risk would probably cost more than the emotions would be worth. add the fact that the girl who liked him last year is a friend of mine and it gets hairy. so i decided not to be an ass and fuck with his emotions. also because we're actually friends... so yeah. i should probably stop picking friends over friends and just treat all the friends like friends. right? i don't know what that means but it makes sense in a way. whatever.<br /><br />after coming to this conclusion, i played a few of my songs on the guitar for my friend (shut up, no, you don't want to hear them, they suck), the one who told me about <b style="color: #b45f06;">arizona</b>'s dicey past. she started fan-girling pretty hard. i called one of my grad buddies over to say hi and hopefully change the topic of conversation long enough for her to calm down. but she didn't. instead she started raving to him about how he had to hear my song and how awesome it was. i don't know. so this guy and i just end up jamming together for about one hour.<br /><br />he's into phish-- this is becoming a common trait of guys i know and i'm not entirely sure why, although i guess phish is pretty awesome, so it makes sense-- and jazz. all i do is jazz. and jeff buckley. i kept having to suppress my insanity. whenever he said something that tickled my brain, my eyes would widen and i'd sit up straighter, maniacally grinning and forgetting to breathe. then i would realize i was getting excited, apologize profusely and look away long enough to calm the fuck down. and he's the only person i've ever met who can understand my mumbles. i took up the habit of mumbling because nobody listens to me anyway. but he actually seemed to be listening to what i was saying, because whenever i would mumble, he'd glance up from the guitar and ask, <i>what?</i>&nbsp;and i'd respond with&nbsp;<i>nothing</i>&nbsp;and then he'd respond to whatever i had said when i mumbled. which means he's not only hearing what i say, he's also giving me time to repeat myself, although he knows what i'm saying.<br /><br />pause. here we are again, like the olden days, when i hopped from crush to crush until the act of teasing myself with emotions burned out my internal hard drive.<br /><br />at one point, i was staring at him, not saying anything, and then heard myself asking <i>do you like cats?</i>&nbsp;he laughed, as any sane person would do, and then said something along the lines of <i>i fucking love cats</i>. this dude has three cats. three. and then we giggled and did all the stupid shit pet owners do when they meet other pet owners. and then he laughed, <i>this is why girls don't like me. because i like cats. they're like, three cats? holy shit. </i>well, i can safely say i was not one of those people.<br /><br />target acquired.<br /><br />unlike <b style="color: #b45f06;">arizona</b>, who would be a common loon, this grad student is kind of like a <b style="color: #76a5af;">great horned owl</b>,<b style="color: #76a5af;"> tiger owl</b>,<b> </b>or<b style="color: #76a5af;">&nbsp;winged tiger</b>. whatever nickname you like for that variety of owl. i think i'll just call him <b><span style="color: #76a5af;">hoot</span></b>.&nbsp;and he's also brilliant on the guitar. <b style="color: #b45f06;">arizona</b>&nbsp;is hands down a better singer. no question there. but he also sings pop. jazz guitar for the win.<br /><br />oh and last night, i ended up breaking my four month sober mark with a beer. one of my friends is the supervisor for a store and there was a gas leak. if i hadn't gotten off, she would have lost her mind. i swear, her employees totally abandoned her. i had been heading to the store to see her, when the firetrucks pulled up. and so i stayed to help (which her employees should have done) and then took her out for a drink, because she was pretty stressed. i paid. also. because i love her, haha. she's adorable. and i bought a basket of fries. came in a literal basket! so amazing. i thought it was an easter thing at first but i think it's just how it is normally.<br /><br />so yeah. here we are.<br /><br />ooh, and <b style="color: #76a5af;">hoot</b>&nbsp;asked me if i wanted to write lyrics to a song he wrote.<br /><br />duh, of course i do. my brain wants to do everything and i'm gonna just let it run rampant. street magicians inviting me to see their shows? barkeepers telling me to play at their open mics? being asked to perform for school events in spite of my performance anxiety? brain says yes to all of the above. so this should be fun. or end really badly, but either way, hey. we'll see.<br /><br />now to make tea and write songs. i hope your day (and also weekend) is less insane than mine will be.<br /><br />honestly.missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-24970994567449159282015-04-02T00:57:00.002-04:002015-04-02T00:57:40.874-04:00it's all icing and no cake.my mind has begun its mad climb upwards. it was all very unexpected. i realized it had happened after it happened. i feel like the crack fox from the mighty boosh. painfully insane.<br /><br />i'm awake. wide. awake.<br /><br />there's a lot of effluvia in my brain right now. too many people giving advice about emotions. too many emotions affecting how i feel about people. too much at once. very noisy.<br /><br />did my homework, somehow. haven't been sleeping much. should probably do that tonight. i have to wake up and leave in a little less than four hours from now. not good.<br /><br />i'm stuck in the middle of three options for my reaction to feeling things for <b style="color: #b45f06;">arizona</b>. the first option is to innocently and with as much purity of heart as i can muster, like him and let myself be tossed against the proverbial rocks if i must be, break and piece myself together. basically, to feel something. my second option is to shut down emotionally and protect myself from all the effort of piecing myself together after the possible breaking. the third option, the one i'll probably go with, is to pretend to innocently and purely like him, while secretly seducing him. this guarantees i'll have all the benefits of liking someone without the emotional poop in the toilet bowl of life.<br /><br />of course these are all horrible, horrible options. and i wish there was a fourth, like "just fucking move on" but he's such a heartthrob.<br /><br />all of this being said, my brain is very overactive right now. hyperactive? maybe just hyper.<br /><br />i need to rest temporarily so that i can wake up soon an-<br /><br />oh yeah. i started down at a highway today, contemplating the benefits of suicide. don't worry, i won't. but i was just thinking about how everyone i went to college with is either graduating or graduated, and i'm just a poor excuse for a prodigy or whatever people think i am. i always told people i wasn't amazing. now i'm just desperate to prove it while simultaneously trying to prove i am amazing, in spite of not being amazing.<br /><br />what is my life<br /><br />i don't understand anymore.<br /><br />i should really take a nap. i'm losing my mind.<br /><br />honestly.missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-65857393028367481692015-03-27T18:50:00.000-04:002015-03-27T20:18:39.192-04:00i've been a bad, bad girl.i've been careless with a delicate man.<br /><br />our voice studio had a masterclass this wednesday. i wasn't prepared, i had performance anxiety, i have perfectionist issues-- there were so many factors. but i messed up. gloriously, perhaps. definitely an unforgettable performance. i had tried to relieve my anxiety beforehand by joking with three of the boys in my studio. we made lewd noises whenever someone sang something beautiful. we rubbed each other's backs and made shady side comments. i had to pee about seven times. i thought it would work. but still i messed up so badly that my teacher, sensing my discomfort and perhaps even my self-hatred, came onto the stage and said, <i>don't worry. nobody's perfect. this was just a fluke.</i>&nbsp;i wrinkled my nose, sighed deeply, went to get my things and leave. my masterclass-mates swarmed around me. only the three boys, since the other girls left. they chorused, <i>you did great</i>, <i>it wasn't bad</i>, <i>at least you kept going</i>, <i>don't be so hard on yourself</i>. i rolled my eyes. as i began to walk away, two of them called after me, telling me to <i>feel better!</i>&nbsp;and assuring me that <i>it was still amazing!</i><br /><i><br /></i>the quiet one, the tallest one, the youngest one. he was headed for the dorms, which were in the direction i was headed, so he came with me. <i><span style="color: #e69138;">nobody did it perfectly</span></i>, he said. <i><span style="color: #e69138;">and most of us didn't know the words either</span></i>. i grunted. <i>i don't want to see our voice teacher on the way home</i>, i began to mumble, realizing that we went the same way. <i><span style="color: #e69138;">wanna come to my dorm</span>?</i>&nbsp;i agreed. i had been there before. i met his roommate. and besides, we're buddies, and we had already had one <a href="http://onehundredpercenthonest.blogspot.com/2015/03/the-way-things-are-and-way-they-should.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #ea9999;"><b>heart to heart</b></span></a> conversation about how fucked up our families are and whatnot. so i went.<br /><br />i put my head on the desk in his room and tried to explain why i was so upset with myself, as he changed out of his clothes behind me. i think the reason i had a hard time getting the words out is because i was trying to not turn around and watch him in various states of undress. which, of course, i wanted to. luckily for me, he stopped in the middle of changing his clothes (the stage after taking off the first outfit and right before putting on the second) and sat down nearby.<br /><i><br /></i><i>i don't know what i'm trying to say.<span style="color: #e69138;"> i think you do; take your time</span>.<span style="color: #b4a7d6;"> </span>um, it's just like there's two versions of myself. there's the perfect version and then there's me. and every once in a while, when i'm not blocking her from getting out, she comes out and it's fucking amazing and everyone's like holy shit. and then the rest of the time, it's me. and everyone is kind of like, oh. you're fucking insane, basically. so yeah.&nbsp;</i><br /><i><br /></i>most people hear this and they give me some spiel about self-esteem. (see: former supervisor, friends, etc.etc.) he actually understood what i was saying. not just sympathizing, but actually empathizing. he told me about hypnotherapy and how he had tried it, and it worked for him. he said he could &nbsp;get a free session for me. <i>i'll think about it. or, to be honest, i'll think about thinking about it. </i>he shrugged, resumed changing his clothes. which apparently, simply entailed putting a pair of pants on. then climbed into his bed. when i say climbed, i mean it. he's like a giant and his bed is like, three and a half feet off the floor.<br /><br />i knew he was tired and was only really just trying to make sure i didn't hate myself as much as i had been after the performance, so i told him he didn't have to babysit me and he could take a nap if he wanted to. i didn't need him to leave the dorm, just to get into it. <i><span style="color: #e69138;">i don't want to sleep, i want to cuddle</span></i><span style="color: #b4a7d6;">. </span>oh.<i> hmm. </i>i rolled the chair to the side of his bed and tentatively offered him my right hand to hold. <i>how's that?</i>&nbsp;<i><span style="color: #e69138;">close, but not quite</span>,&nbsp;</i>he said as he held it. inside, i'm telling myself, you don't want to lose more guy friends to the awkward middle space. or worse, to have another friend that you have this weird sexual undercurrent with. (i have this bad habit of collecting guys that i'm more than friends with but less than relationship quality, and most of my guy friends end up turning into this eventually. it's really bad.) so i think it over and finally i'm like, okay, i want to but i won't let anything happen.<br /><br />so i end up cuddling with this kid, who we'll call <span style="color: #b45f06; font-weight: bold;">arizona</span>,<b>&nbsp;</b>due to the fact that he's hot and dry, humor-wise. the whole time, i'm really trying to keep myself in control and not do anything misleading. (that is, more misleading than climbing into his bed and getting under a blanket with him.) it got really hot, really fast. temperature wise. and also, because the longer i stayed there, the closer we got. right when that last mental barrier was about to collapse, in walked the roommate. it was perfect. mostly because i was still fully dressed. that's a first for me. and also because i hadn't made out with him, like i wanted to. which is also a first for me, i usually just let my body go where it wants to.<br /><br />anyway, i left not long after that. i saw him yesterday. it was even weirder than the whole cuddling situation because-- remember that weird sexual undercurrent i was trying to avoid? it's totally there now. there's all this wicked sexual tension between the two of us. (similar to the tension between <b style="color: #93c47d;">puck </b>and i, but different. with that one, the intensity is from the unspoken agreement to not do anything. with this one, there is no such agreement.) it's funny because my friend had asked me before spring break if the two of us were going out because she was getting some cute love vibes. she wasn't in yesterday. but if she had been, she would have noticed all the side-glancing and avoiding physical contact that was going on.<br /><br />i feel bad because i know i don't understand emotions and even though he probably understands that, it's like, really likely that anything emotional wouldn't end well. at the same time, i feel weird because it's not like normally, where i'm the one reeling in a potential catch. he's the one who started it. i've been haunted by his perfectly timed forehead kiss. the gentle rise and fall of his chest. the lazy way his fingers ran up and down my sides. his heady scent. the rhythm of his heartbeat. everything, i guess. really fucking sucks. i keep asking myself, what am i doing? what's wrong with me? i can tell from the hyper-awareness of each other that he's probably thinking about it as much as i am. (or am i projecting? holy shit, i'm overthinking this.)<br /><br />i'm pretty sure, from past experiences with my brain, that i'll like him now and then after i've successfully gotten him to like me too, i'll stop liking him because he likes me. <i>or</i>&nbsp;i'll like him as long as he doesn't like me and because of this, allow myself to get close to him physically, while still maintaining a safe emotional distance. does any of this make sense? i really can't even fucking tell. my brain isn't the right state for this.<br /><br />honestly.missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-29270315971465816252015-03-22T10:34:00.000-04:002015-03-22T10:34:58.883-04:00i'm having a hard time.i'm actually quoting my younger self here, which i'm sure she'd be pleased by. i am having a hard time, though. i'm very frustrated. i was doing a fairly decent job of eating <i>relatively </i>normally until spring break started this past monday. being stuck at home with my mother-- <i>god, </i>am i beating a dead horse? don't you guys understand how stressful this house is by now? it was absolute hell. basically launched me headfirst, mouth wide open, into a week long b/p cycle. the intensity of which leads me to call it BingeFest 2015. (there was a BingeFest 2013, as well as a BingeFest 2014. there was also a BingeFest 2010. these are periods of time where i'm just irritated and angry and generally not pleasant to be around. also, i'm b/p-ing with the intensity of an olympian.)<br /><br />yesterday, my sister and i woke up to my mother's literal stomping upstairs and yelling at us about fuck knows what. this led my normally softspoken sister-- no, wait, this is a lie. my sister is outspoken as hell. either way, my sister basically said, shut up, go away, i'm sleeping, you're a dick. but that was just kind of the icing on the cake of shit that she's been baking all week. or really, maybe, this morning was the icing. i woke up, climbed out of bed and went to open my blinds (which is actually a big fucking deal, since i've been so crippled by stress/fear/self-hatred that i haven't left the house since the twelfth). she probably heard me moving, because five seconds later she sent me a horrid text about getting a job. not that getting a job is horrid; i'd love to. but being constantly bitched at for any and everything really wears one down.<br /><br />and yes, i know, the other alternative was leaving home. but let's look at the options, okay? there aren't many people i can turn to in case i need to get away from my house quickly. there's basically <b style="color: orange;">waterbear</b>, who i can't see because she just got out of inpatient and i'm obviously still too fucked in the head to be of any use. in fact, i'd probably make things worse. there's <b style="color: yellow;">banana</b>, who would totally be willing to help, if not for the fact that her life is currently in the shitter as well, and i'm not going to pile my crap on top of hers. she isn't a beast of burden, so i won't treat her as such. the other people are mostly guys, who really just want to sleep with me and (let's face it) i'm not really interested in losing my virginity to any of them. the remainder are girls who would probably force me to talk about my problems and/or lecture me on the importance of things that aren't important at all. so i stayed home.<br /><br />i mean, i know (objectively) things aren't as bad as they could be. i'm not cutting, although i carry my razor around in my wallet like a rabbit's foot or four leaf clover. i haven't cried, or shown any lack of emotional self-control, which is also a bonus. also, i've kept things tidy around here. i'm not sleeping much (i only got 2.5 hours last night), but i am still sleeping. i don't know how long that will last, but for now, any sleep is comforting. i haven't had any of my usual horrid lucid nightmares in a while. and i've been able to read and play video games all week.<br /><br />subjectively, though, i'm just very upset with myself. for starters, letting my mother get to me enough to launch me into a week-long b/p cycle. that's shit. i didn't get the highest grade in a few of my classes on these midterms we had. i may have been in the top percentile but that doesn't mean anything. (the saying here is <i>anything less than success is failure</i>.) i haven't been exercising as much as i'd like.<br /><br />i had the thought today that living in my house is a lot like living in a neighborhood with a serial killer on the loose. it's this constant fear, watching over your shoulder and wondering what the hell is going to happen. maybe that sounds a little extreme. perhaps it's more running through like a mine field without a map. you never know where the next land mine is or if something's suddenly going to explode. it's not you that's the problem. it's your surroundings, basically. that's how i feel.<br /><br />so i'm having a hard time. or at least, i've <i>been </i>having a hard time. i don't plan to anymore. i don't have time to waste b/p-ing. or feeling emotions. haha. i talked on the phone with my friend last night and hearing the amount of self-loathing in his voice was a lot like hearing myself talking to myself. i can't control my environment. but i can control myself. and i don't plan on letting this shit get to me anymore. give it a week, though, and i'll probably be like <i>fuck my life blahblahblah</i>. so it goes.<br /><br />you know how it is.<br /><br />honestly.missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-66520263853811626702015-03-09T19:09:00.002-04:002015-03-09T19:09:59.799-04:00the way things are (and the way they should be).i'm trying very hard to swim, to keep my head above water. i replay <i>genius next door </i>by regina spektor, reminding myself that if i just hold in my breath until i come back up, if i just hold my breath until i think everything through... the perfection i've been handling my schedule with this semester is starting to slip. i need to tighten up. i'm giving myself too much rope. if i don't stop, i'm going to drown. sink or swim, they say.<br /><br />i'm noticing my energy shift as the weather rises. not that the two are connected usually. i can have high energy in the winter as well. but for some reason, the sunlight is wreaking havoc with my brain. it's lighting up like a christmas tree on fire. i know it is because i'm holding eye contact too long. i like that i'm aware of it right now, though. i can still make good decisions. i just need to keep reminding myself, don't drink, don't drink, don't drink. as my energy spikes, my impulse control plummets. and so the story goes.<br /><br />i'm doing yoga. that's supposed to help, theoretically. but all it's doing for me is making me comfortable in solitude. then, in comparison, when i'm around people, my anxiety begins to spike. sitting in class today, eyes closed, as a classmate played a piece he composed, i felt my muscles tense with every unexpected note. my teacher noticed the nervous twitch of my feet. my classmate noticed me fidgeting with my hands. sitting still is hard enough, without my eyes being closed and people watching me. yoga is failing me. but at least my flexibility is increasing.<br /><br />i'm avoiding people again. i'm pretending to seek them out, so that they can't say i'm avoiding them. but when the time comes for me to actually be where they'd like me to be, i disappear. i can't handle people. at least, not all people. i have a new friend, a sophomore who's probably got a case of mild depression. he's an amazing singer. his voice made me have a fan girl moment. he's a nice kid. but he doesn't feel like college is right for him and yet he's basically stuck. he hates it. really. so he doesn't go to classes and he doesn't talk to people. he stays shut up inside his dorm room. he has very few friends. i'm glad to at least say i'm one of them. but i don't like seeing people unhappy. and his relationship with his family sounds like crap. i can relate. we bonded over the insanity of our mothers. (and finally, my mother is useful to me in a social context.)<br /><br />i'm going to start scheduling myself more. tighter schedule, less room for improvisation. space for unexpected things of course, but not too much. i'm going to start breathing. i notice that i hold my breath. that's probably not helping with my anxiousness. i only remember to breathe after my lungs begin to shrivel and my heart beats on the door of my chest, telling me <i>inhale, you dumb bitch! inhale!</i>&nbsp;and so i do. and i'm going to stop pretending to seek people out. that's a huge waste of time in my schedule. i'm going to help this kid too, because i have a savior complex, and i can't stand to see someone in trouble.<br /><br />i have to do things properly. i keep fucking up.<br /><br />honestly.missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-10716569650414445752015-02-27T23:20:00.000-05:002015-02-28T09:52:58.285-05:00this is what you'd hear if i could speak my mind.<div style="text-align: center;">i am a neuron</div><div style="text-align: center;">shocking and small</div><div style="text-align: center;">wrapped in layers</div><div style="text-align: center;">and layers</div><div style="text-align: center;">of fat.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">.....................................</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">my mind</div><div style="text-align: center;">the Pyrex cup that holds&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">my sanity, fluid</div><div style="text-align: center;">half empty, half full</div><div style="text-align: center;">hot to the touch</div><div style="text-align: center;">impossible to hold</div><div style="text-align: center;">the cold stream of reality flows</div><div style="text-align: center;">it cracks.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">.................................</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">don't fight mania, don't fight depression</div><div style="text-align: center;">glide, slide, slip, trip&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">upwards into the clear canvas of elevation</div><div style="text-align: center;">sink, fall, descend, recline&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">backwards, down into the seat of madness.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">........</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i'm all kinetic and no potential.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">honestly.</div>missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-38374535009634210382015-02-24T03:10:00.001-05:002015-02-24T03:10:21.556-05:00what can we do with it, this Humanity? nothing.2013.<br /><br />october twenty fourth, twenty-thirteen. that's when <b style="color: yellow;">banana </b>told me she was taking a leave of absence. it was my dad's birthday and i was already pretty much in the dumps. but i smiled.&nbsp;<i>that's okay</i>, i told her. <i>you'll be back. </i>i went through something not unlike a mental breakdown, where i started crying in class and actually told my classmates and teacher how much i missed her. being worried about your friends is stressful as heck but&nbsp;sure enough, just like she said, she was back. and we fell right back into our old routine, whispering too loudly in class, laughing at all the stupid things people wasted their time with. <i>they don't care about what's really important,</i>&nbsp;she said, rolling her eyes. <i>whatever. we just gotta get through this. </i>i can't even count how many days i've watched her flip her long brown hair defiantly over one shoulder before going to her car. every step said screw this school, i'm over it.<br /><br />2015.<br /><br />february twenty first, twenty-fifteen. the day of my birthday, i get an email from my teacher. see, <b style="color: yellow;">banana </b>and i were class partners. so my teacher felt obligated to tell me that she's withdrawn from the program. i already knew, long before the email. but it really sucked to be told that. i've been defending her violently in class. whenever people say, <i>soo... where is she? haha, she's probably not coming back. </i>i'd tell them they were being completely rude and end all conversation on the topic. i would do that for anyone who was being traduced but even more so, when it's one of my close friends, i get that much more upset. like clockwork, the school counselor sends out an email for a workshop on emotional stability. which i'm obviously not going to because no one who's actually on the edge of emotional instability is foolish enough to walk into one of those things. at least not on campus.<br /><br />so here i am now, unable to sleep. i have this class tomorrow and i don't want to go. at the same time, i have to go because i need to keep my life at this pace or it'll fall apart again. also, almost equally, i'm really starting to realize how incapable i am of functioning around people for extended periods of time, so i've been slowly withdrawing from my social circles while simultaneously being more active in them (so as not to raise suspicion).<br /><br />i don't know how it's working but it is.<br /><br />the good news is i've been doing all my homework. the bad news is that my brain is starting to do its own thing again. i haven't had caffeine in... two months. and i've got about eighteen cans of red bull nearby. i'll probably need it for tomorrow... but anyway, more good news... um, one of my best friends is getting counseling for his depression, yay! he's being proactive about his marriage, which is good. the bad news is, my therapist absolutely sucks and talks for 50/60 mins of our session about NOTHING. the good news is, i've managed to avoid seeing him for about three weeks now. so i'm going to see how long i can keep this up before i can quit. and just to end on a happy note, <b style="color: #6aa84f;">puck </b>asked if i'll accept a hug tomorrow as a birthday present. WAIT.<br /><br />okay, random story.<br /><br />last week, he saw a girl that he thought was me. she had a tattoo of a cross on the back of her neck but everything else seemed similar to him. (i have no tattoos.) so instead of saying hi or something else normal people do, he ran his finger <i>down her tattoo</i>. of course, she spun around and was like, "......." at which point, he asked her to print his homework. she did. naturally. (i mean, creepy or not, the guy is gorgeous.) so he told me this story when he saw me later that day and guess who passed by? the girl. even though he wasn't wearing his glasses (a valid excuse), we look nothing alike, she and i. <b style="color: #6aa84f;">puck</b>, right? he's super weird and yet he's pretty cool.<br /><br />so here's me, running back and forth between feeling horrible about abandoning most of my friends and feeling great about the fact that such a lovely boy is friends with me. two different kinds of hell, but hell all the same.<br /><br />honestly.missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-2666712420310371482015-02-08T19:48:00.002-05:002015-02-08T19:48:45.415-05:00lesson learned.so i got kicked out of internship because i hadn't written enough logs. <i>okay</i>, i thought (after a long period of grumbling), <i>i can deal with this. i'll just stick with it until i get this degree. </i>meaning i'll be in college for another year. i can accept that because i'm pretty stubborn about getting this degree. one way or another, i'm getting this degree. seriously.<div><br /></div><div>i can live with this. i'll be stuck at this school for another year. okay. fine.</div><div><br /></div><div><b><span style="color: yellow;">banana</span>&nbsp;</b>and i are in the same major. she also got kicked out of internship. why? she missed a few days because she gets migraines. and no, she wasn't making it up, the weather's been pretty capricious here and she doesn't deal with the cold well. she called in and told her supervisor each time, naturally. still, our school said, <i>blahblahblah, you've violated our contract. </i>so now for her to get this degree, she also needs to be in college for another year. she did all her logs (as well as other assorted assignments).</div><div><br /></div><div>this, i cannot live with. she'll be stuck at this school for another year. not okay. and not fine.</div><div><br /></div><div>everyone was pretty upset when they found out. they say the people in charge of this major set the program up to fail us (as in all the students). but what can we do? we have no power here. so <b style="color: yellow;">banana</b>&nbsp;and i refused to accept what they offered us. <i>you can graduate</i>, they smiled. <i>just not with this degree</i>. we said <i>no, thanks, we're getting it</i>. and so we shall. hopefully. i didn't even mention that the other girl in my internship class suddenly returned to her state of origin without the degree. most likely a combination of my reason and <b style="color: yellow;">banana</b>'s reason. (dropping like proverbial files.)</div><div><br /></div><div>i'm pretty worried about her because she's not taking this well at all. (helping others really does help you, even if you're in the same boat.) also, <b style="color: orange;">waterbear</b>&nbsp;ended up going to inpatient last year. she's out now, which i love, but i also feel bad, because i'm trying to move forward with my life. and i don't want to do the things we did together forever. i know that's not the foundation of our friendship but it's a pretty big brick. it's weird that i'm saying we're such great friends, and yet i don't think i'd be able to explain this to her. today is her birthday and i want to call her, but i don't because she wants to come pick me up so we can go smoke and drink with her other friends. i know she'll be hurt if i don't call but i don't know what i'll say if i do call. i just don't want to fall back into that. also i have a really bad habit of trying to be everyone's savior, which is partially why i didn't even have the motivation to do my homework last semester. worrying about your friends can get really depressing.</div><div><br /></div><div>aside from that, i'm definitely moving forward with my life. i agreed to go to this therapist dude, although he sucks. but i'm learning how to speak up. he really, really sucks. but if i don't want to sit and listen to him talk for one hour, i have to say something, and not back down because he's old and i'm trying to be respectful and polite. i've got a lot to work on. but i'm getting there.</div><div><br /></div><div>i think where i was when i wrote last time was a horribly dark place. but although the tunnel's gotten longer, i can still see the light at the end of it, so.... i'm going to keep moving forward.</div><div><br /></div><div>although it irritates something deep within me that i can barely describe, i have to <i>roll over/sit/stay/speak</i> when the people at my school tell me to. i call it legalized prostitution because we sell ourselves for this piece of paper that really means very little at the end of the day. and yet it means a lot to us because it means a lot to someone else. i don't know. it's really silly. i don't like being told what to do and how to think. but i suppose what i never thought about was that i don't have to think the way i'm pretending to, i just need to play along long enough to graduate.</div><div><br /></div><div>the hard part now isn't going to be doing the work, it's going to be finishing this phase of my life so i can move on.</div><div><br /></div><div>but thanks for the positive vibes, i really appreciate it.</div><div><br /></div><div>honestly.&nbsp;</div>missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-23587452203755275302014-12-18T20:00:00.001-05:002014-12-18T20:00:05.653-05:00well... what are you supposed to feel?i don't know if this is self-fulfilling prophecy or a a by-product of a lack of self-esteem, but once again i've proven to myself that i am indeed a failure. (guess who failed the only class necessary to continue with her internship. this girl. right here.) this is great. i don't know what's worse, that my teacher actually <i>called </i>me on the phone or that she said she was concerned about my apathy. apparently she's been talking with my site supervisor too.<br /><br />although it makes no sense in a logical manner, i feel like i deserved this somehow. (hmm.)<br /><br />this is my fault either way. i saw this coming. it started months ago, with the casual <i>your personal reactions aren't personal enough</i> comment from my teacher. <i>you write like an observer. i can't picture you in the group.&nbsp;</i><br /><i><br /></i>whatever. the point is that i'm a failure.<br /><br />this is some kind of karmic justice. i went to the psych unit three times a week for the past few months, pretending i had my shit together and giving advice to other people. and now here i am. if i was on the edge of losing my mind before, i can't even tell you where i am now. i told a few people that if i didn't graduate this year i would probably kill myself. not to be dramatic or anything but that's a real option at the moment. <strike>although if my previous attempts have proven anything, it's just more confirmation that i'm a failure.</strike><br /><br />my teacher was on the phone with me and she basically said, <i>i've been talking with the other professors and your site supervisor, and we all kind of get the feeling you're a little too fucked up to be in this program. like, you're not emotionally ready yet. here are your options: graduate next year, get a degree in basically nothing, or force us to do a shit-ton of extra work that still won't allow you to graduate this year but may let you graduate with this degree.</i>&nbsp;okay, i said. <i>i don't think, at the moment, you should go to your site tomorrow.</i>&nbsp;okay, i said. <i>why don't we talk again tomorrow? </i>okay, i said. and then she ended with <i>try to sleep well tonight.</i>&nbsp;okay, i thought. i will. because i can rest easy knowing that i'm a failure at life.<br /><br />currently, if i were to describe how i felt, it's apathy, i suppose. since i don't feel anything at the moment. we had a new patient the other day and i had to do her initial assessment. she said <i>it's weird, most of the time, i'm just numb. like this wall. i don't feel anything.</i>&nbsp;yeah. maybe i related a little too well with the patients. maybe i just have self-destructive tendencies. (actually, take the maybe out of that. i do.) i'm a little worried-- if that's an emotion/feeling then i guess&nbsp;i do feel something right now-- about what the fuck i'll tell my mother. she's probably going to kick me out.<br /><br />this is such a fucking terrible roller-coaster and life is the shittiest amusement park ever.<br /><br />can i be sad or angry or something, though? maybe i'm not emotionally ready to do anything. <strike>except run a razor across my arms.</strike>&nbsp;i hate my life.<br /><br />honestly.missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-91392403785731869412014-11-17T18:27:00.000-05:002014-11-17T18:27:05.300-05:00dream brother.today is jeff buckley's birthday.<br /><i><br /></i><span style="color: #e06666;"><i>happy fucking birthday, jeff.</i>&nbsp;</span><br /><br />yesterday i told <b style="color: orange;">waterbear</b>, with no doubt in my mind, that today would be the fucking best day ever. and you know what? today was the fucking best day ever. i'll walk you through it. (chronologically.)<br /><br />woke up super early and was just immediately in an awesome mood. realized it was raining, which is perfect for jeff's birthday. jammed to a bunch of my old 90s songs. (destiny's child, anyone?) left at just the right moment so i didn't have to stand at the bus stop too long. caught my train as soon as i got to the station. bought the paper at a deli, where i got a free coffee for asking the owner how he was doing. or for just being adorable. (haha, as if.) got to my internship site amazingly early and ran into the hot radiology tech guy who always says hi to me. (spoiler: he said hi to me. we even had a <i>conversation</i>.) made faces at a psychiatrist and social worker during the morning meeting. they made faces back. wrote a song with a rambling psych client. had the psychiatrist from earlier sing and dance for me during lunch break. (he played the tremeloes, little tony, and fucking adriano celentano. then he sang <i>ta ra ta ta</i> and danced. it was amazing.) i cheered up a depressed client and bonded with him. did all my work on the unit. had a moment with the social worker from earlier-- not unlike one i had with <span style="color: #93c47d;"><b>puck</b>&nbsp;</span>months ago, with the high five turning into a weird hand-holdy thing-- where he asked me why i hadn't been to a party that one of the psychiatrists had over the weekend (answer: i wasn't invited), asked me where i lived (which i again, answered), and then asked me if i wanted to come to his studio (answer: <i>hell fucking yeah</i>.) then i told my supervisor about a song i wrote (featuring an aforementioned dead bird). he was totally amazed. (although that could be because of the amount of energy i have today.) then i came home, singing <i><b><span style="color: #e06666;">grace</span></b>&nbsp;</i>by jeff buckley at the top of my lungs. and it sounded awesome. and on my bed, waiting for me, was a twenty ounce can of red bull.<br /><br />today was the fucking best day ever.<br /><br />nothing went wrong. (the rarity of this sentence coming from me makes today that much better.)<br /><br />it's all because it was jeff's birthday. i'm gonna try to stretch this magic out to the rest of the week.<br /><br />and my fucking horoscope today said <i><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">eliminate negativity and stay positive</span></i>&nbsp;and my quote for today was from jeff (obviously) and it goes <i><span style="color: #e06666;">be the best. no negativity. no weakness. no acquiescence to fear or disaster. no errors of ignorance. no evasion to reality.</span> </i>it was like the exact same thing basically. i knew from the moment i saw it that everything was going to be amazing.<br /><br />cherry on top? the day's not over yet.<br /><br />add the fact that i get to see <b style="color: #93c47d;">puck </b>tomorrow and you know i'm going to have fun this week. it might not be because of jeff's birthday. it might just be mania but either way it's going to be tons of fun.<br /><br />honestly.missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-75992696257435847332014-11-16T10:52:00.000-05:002014-11-16T10:52:49.843-05:00i'm exploding in smiles/ my equilibrium's spinning<b style="color: #93c47d;">puck </b>makes everything better.<div><br /></div><div>saturday, i didn't quite feel up to leaving the house, even if it was for him. so he said,&nbsp;<i><span style="color: #93c47d;">i have a two hour break tuesday and thursday. let's see each other then.</span></i>&nbsp;tuesday came and he had a paper to type. <i><span style="color: #93c47d;">thursday, thursday. i'll be free on thursday.</span> you say that like i don't have things to do on thursday, sir. <span style="color: #93c47d;">if you don't have time then, we can pick another day.</span></i>&nbsp;so i danced on pins and needles at internship on wednesday, a confused mixture of anxiety and despair. thursday came. the time clicked by, painfully slow. three o'clock came and left. <i>where are you?<span style="color: #93c47d;"> i thought you had things to do.</span> why? <span style="color: #93c47d;">does "you say that like i don't have things to do on thursday" ring any bells?</span></i>&nbsp;<i>stop splitting hairs and come here.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>and then there he was.</div><div><br /></div><div>i was having a conversation with an old friend (about subway's gag-inducing stench) while i waited for him. when i looked up, there he was. my friend gauged the situation and politely made his exit. <i>can i get my hug now? <span style="color: #93c47d;">come get it.</span> no, you come here. </i>he smiled, rolled his eyes, gave me a hug. the first thing i noticed that i guess i really couldn't help is that he's leaner. he's gotten smaller. not too much but just enough to kind of boost his attractiveness a lot. i remember asking myself a few months ago, <i>can this guy get any hotter? </i>apparently the answer was yes. i died a little on the inside. before, when he was the hottest guy i knew, he was beyond reach. even in my wildest dreams, there was no way i could see... well, us. and now he's still the hottest guy i know but he's inexplicably become hotter.</div><div><br /></div><div>this grad student decided at that moment, to eat her lunch under the staircase where we were sitting. every once in a while, she would shift her legs. bare, long, leggy. flip her hair. whatever. the point is she was really pretty. i lost my voice. we sat in awkward silence for a while. (sorry, ashley. i tried.) he tried to amuse me by telling me stories about his day. and then i had to go to class. i had a huge internal struggle. resisted the urge to sing should i stay or should i go. i joked, drily, <i>can i have another hug? since i probably won't see you for another six months. <span style="color: #93c47d;">why would you say that?</span></i>&nbsp;he asked, before giving me a hug. the weird thing is that all of this made me feel horrible about myself. until later, when i asked, nervously, <i>six months is... when? <span style="color: #93c47d;">i would imagine tuesday or thursday is about six months.&nbsp;</span></i></div><div><i><span style="color: #93c47d;"><br /></span></i></div><div>my tail wagged.</div><div><br /></div><div>the thing about <b style="color: #93c47d;">puck </b>is that he seems to realize that i'm quite unstable. or maybe just that i have no self-esteem. but he's still pretty considerate about it. and still doesn't mind hanging out with me. i wish i wasn't such a chicken, though.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>either way, he put me in such a good mood that i went out on friday and got amazingly drunk with a guy who likes me whose friend also likes me. (because this is how i deal with good and bad moments in life. i intentionally make mistakes. do things i probably shouldn't because they're fun.) he left for a while and i was alone with a giant bottle of gin. i drank myself silly. called people to let them know how much i loved them. all was right with the world. the guy returned to find me, completely wasted and singing along to a mos def cd. he tried to get some, so to speak. i protested, babbled about how much i loved <b style="color: #93c47d;">puck</b>, and told him only <b style="color: #93c47d;">puck </b>would be able to do anything of the sort with me. eventually, i realized this guy was not concerned with my love life or the fact that i was not into doing anything with him. called another friend, who also likes me, and left. where i again began babbling about <b style="color: #93c47d;">puck </b>until i passed out.&nbsp;saturday, went to church, where i spent the entire day playing the piano and dreaming about <b style="color: #93c47d;">puck</b>. which brings us to today, where i am doing my homework so that when tuesday comes, i enough have free time for him.</div><div><br /></div><div>life is better just knowing he's in existence, i suppose. it's not like he really <i>did </i>anything besides hug me. (although, to be honest, holding him is kind of a big deal.) he's like summer vacation, christmastime, and valentine's day all wrapped up in the fluffiest snow. i tell strangers about him. i tell people about him while i'm making out with them. i find excuses to bring him up in conversation. he's a six ounce bag of skittles with a bottle of vodka. all of that being said, i realize that if i do what i did six months ago (which was essentially nothing), then i'll stay here forever.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>i need to do something. i'll figure it out. i've got no choice, really. but at this moment in time, i don't mind where i am.</div><div><br /></div><div>honestly.</div>missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3668482602462920450.post-26785771933430104802014-11-12T22:07:00.001-05:002014-11-12T22:07:48.393-05:00my mind is a carnival; the carny is my brain.i'm really starting to realize what a bizarre childhood i had. the longer i spend talking to the people on the psych unit, the more i realize that it was totally abnormal. the fact that i thought it was normal, at three years old, to go to work with my dad everyday and basically just inhale chemicals until it was time to go home. (this is one of the reasons i was happy to start high school. i got to smell formaldehyde in bio lab.) or the austerity i handled life with. people were amused because i was saying things like, <i>i can't smile right now, life is serious business</i>. and i meant it. but i've been having flashbacks of this video i used to watch religiously, along with sesame street and barney. i decided to look it up, slowly piecing the fragmented shards of my memory together. i finally fucking remember it.<div><br /></div><div>it was a mr. know it owl video. he's actually a brilliant but completely under-appreciated bird with this firefly named phineas. i loved it when i was a kid. i thought it was the best experience i could have within a half-hour. the weird thing is that i don't actually remember what he was teaching. i can only remember a scene from the video where these children are playing and they find a dead bird. they stand around for a bit, get a rock and write something on it, and then they bury it. there's a weird sort of emotional undercurrent at this point in the video but they get over it. suddenly they're playing again. and then i think it's back to mr. know it owl. i'm not really sure how this fit into this video or why it was there or why someone thought <i>oh hey, this would be a good thing to insert right about now, some kids burying a dead bird</i>. it was actually a really touching scene but it totally messed me up.</div><div><br /></div><div>i think about a month or two after i first watched it, i was in the backseat while my dad was driving down the street. pigeons are always hanging out in the road. it was nothing new. i had always seen them. they sat there. cars came. they flew away. the cars passed. they came back. but for some reason, while coming home from school one day, i was suddenly gripped with the fear that maybe one of the birds couldn't fly away. then what? would i have to get out of the car and bury it? would i need to find a stone and chalk to write <i>here lies a bird that is dead</i>&nbsp;like the children did in the video? would my father even stop so i could bury it or would its corpse lie in the street indefinitely? so i yelled stop at the top of my lungs, my dad steps on the brakes because he thinks something terrible is going on, and then i tell him he can't run over the bird.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>he was so pissed. i can't even explain. (we could have gotten into an accident, the way he stopped the car. so it's understandable.)</div><div><br /></div><div>i don't know why i was watching this. the scene is actually from the book <u>the dead bird</u>&nbsp;by margaret wise brown. maybe it's the reason i had an odd preoccupation with cemeteries, death, and corpses while i was growing up. or maybe all the cemeteries, death, and corpses i encountered were the reason i understood the video so well. or maybe i was simply touched by the children's care for the dead bird. i don't know.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>this is just a snippet of the kind of thing that goes through my head. i could sit and process this for hours before coming to a conclusion that i accept. and that in itself is definitely not normal. it's not just my childhood that was bizarre, it's my entire life thus far. but i can only say childhood because i'm not old enough to reference anything more than that. don't even get me started on beat the clock with guy smiley and cookie monster.</div><div><br /></div><div>all of this being said, i need to find this VHS and watch it. weird or not, it's a great scene.</div><div><br /></div><div>honestly.</div>missinsanity.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16681773964594329157noreply@blogger.com2